


The Auction

by inchvormzz



Category: La Frecuencia Kirlian (Web Series), The Kirlian Frequency
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 12:46:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inchvormzz/pseuds/inchvormzz
Summary: The DJ receives a frantic call on the Kirlian Frequency begging for his help every single night. Tonight is no different.





	The Auction

The touch-tone phone rang, breaking the silence of the quiet studio. A set of eyes, hidden by a pair of glasses, looked over with a blank expression.

“Well, listeners, it seems we have our first caller of the night,” the shadowed figure said as he picked up the phone, bringing it’s sound to an end, “You’re on the air on the Kirlian Frequency.”

The voice at the other end was low, frantic and full of fear. “Hello? I have an important question that you must answer, it’s an emergency!” 

“Hmm, an emergency? Now, dear listener, I know Kirlian might be a frightful place, especially to newcomers, but are you sure your case could be considered an emergency?”

“No, you don’t understand!” the voice hoarsely shouted into the phone, “Your answer will decide if I can trust my mind- if I can trust the reality I am experiencing.”

The caller paused, only their breathing breaking the radio static. “This is an emergency, Kirlian.”

The DJ twisted the wire connecting the phone to its host, then sighed, “Well, what is your question?”

“Do you know of the auction tonight? At the old, collapsing barn near the edge of town?”

“Of course! I’m planning on going, there’s a few rugs or used ritual knives I was hoping to get my hands on.”

“Do you know where they got the stuff? The sellers, why are they selling all of those items?”

The DJ hummed, low and thoughtful, and looked out the cracks of the boarded-up window. “If I remember right, I think it was because their neighbor died. There’s no point keeping sentimentals in an empty house, in my opinion.”

Silence filled the studio again, the voice on the phone going quiet. The Host turned back to make sure the guest hadn’t ended the call. A few groans or whimpers droned from the phone, prompting the DJ to ask:

“Hello? Listener, you’re still on the air.”

“I need you to look up my name.” The voice’s tone changed suddenly, snapping and sharp.

“Hm? I do have access to records of all the citizens in Kirlian, but I don’t think I can do that on air.”

“I don’t care, I need to know!”

“I’m very serious about this, listener. I’m telling you one more time that I cannot look up your name right n-“

“███ ██████. That’s my name, now look it up immediately.”

The DJ was silent for a second, secretly taken aback by the stupidity of this newcomer to shout their full name on live radio, but he quietly did what the caller instructed.

He had a shitty old laptop at his disposal, the light bouncing off the Host’s glasses as he typed the name into the search bar.

His voice was still emotionless as he pondered over his results aloud. “Now, this can’t be right. How do you spell your name? Just to be sure.”

The voice made a few puzzled noises before demanding, “How do you not know how to spell such a simple name?! It’s █-█-█-█-█ and █-█-█-█-█-█!”

The DJ fell silent for a few more seconds before turning to the microphone. “Well, listeners, it seems we have a mystery on our hands. Our current caller’s status, typed in red and underlined, is written as ‘dead’.”

“Wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen in Kirlian, though. Isn’t that right, listeners? Spirits walking our Earth is quite common nowadays,” the lone Host continued as the voice on the phone died out.

The voice wanted their blood to turn cold or their eyes to water or just feel any reassurance that they lived on. But, no, nothing had changed. There were no functioning organs or flowing blood to change, anyway.

They could only watch from behind the metal fence that separated the bidders from the items, completely ignored by the others- the living. 

The dead pulled on the wire that connected the phone to it’s box, their breath quickening, before pushing it back to their ear. 

“You’ve got to help me. You’ve heard so many bizarre calls on your freaky radio show, there’s gotta be something you or I can do!” they cried, tightening their grip on the wire.

Static rose from the device before the DJ mumbled, “Sorry, listener, but we’ve been told to not communicate with the undead. Thank you for calling the Kirlian Frequency.”

The conversation was cut short when the click of the Host putting down the phone sounded from the other side, the telephone’s tone filling their ears.

The voice stumbled back against the wall, letting the phone fall from their hand, and watched with bloodshot eyes as figures passed in front of them.

Floodlights lit the area as items, ironed and dusted with previous memories, passed from dirt-covered hand to greasy fingertips.

Anger shook inside them and they lunged for the patrons, only to find their arm phasing right through them. They raked their fingers across chests and backs, but no reactions were seen.

The voice, lifeless and unheard, spun around for hours, clawing and crying to anyone who they could see. 

They begged for help. Somebody listen to them. You’ve got to stop them. This isn’t right.

But, why would anyone bother to pay attention to them if their voice did not reach the living world?

**Author's Note:**

> there’s almost no kirlian fics and understandable this was hard to write hhskgkd ; but it’s a good show


End file.
